The One I'll Always Know
by LetThemEatCake0
Summary: Nothing could keep them apart. Rated M for adult activities. Cuddy/House, Wilson. Thanks to everyone for your feedback! This is for those who asked for more.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This idea came to me while I was re-watching "The Itch" for about the millionth time and I thought, _Hmm…what if…_ This fic doesn't follow any sort of timeline and there are no spoilers to my knowledge. Please let me know what you think!! :D

He always calls when he's going to be late. Tonight was no exception. _Don't wait up_, he'd said. Those words should hurt, but they don't. When she thought about it, they never _had_, but she kept those thoughts locked away, safe in her subconscious. The truth did no one any good, their relationship worked because each labored under the delusion that the other was above reproach.

It was after midnight, the paperwork was finished, the mail sorted and the bills paid. She was surfing the web to kill time while she waited for her linens to finish their cycle in the dryer. Her ears caught the soft beeping from the laundry room and she logged off, shutting down the computer. She pulled her sheets from the dryer, her body absorbing the warmth.

Climbing the steps to the bedroom, she switched on a lamp and dropped the linens onto the luxurious bed. It was a selfish purchase but one she would never regret. When her eyes landed on the wrought iron head and footboard, she felt drawn to it, as if it were a work of art. After a mattress test that wasn't nearly as fun as it sounded, she made the purchase impulsively. And she could count on one hand the number of times she had been so reckless in the pursuit of material acquisition.

As she secured the fitted sheet, her mind wandered to the degree that she wasn't paying the slightest attention to the task at hand. After smoothing the duvet, she spotted the top sheet lying on the antique chest at the end of the bed. Cursing her inattention, she pulled the light comforter from the bed and laid it over the chest and quickly put on the flat sheet.

She gathered the comforter in her arms, meaning to finish making up the bed, but movement from the doorway made her jump, her hand flying to her chest. As she calmed her racing heart, she wondered how long he had been standing there, watching.

"God! What are you doing? You scared the hell out of me."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you here?"

"You know why."

Expelling a breath, she closed her eyes. Giving the duvet one last tug, she folded the sheet back, ignoring the flash of diamonds from her wedding set, and extinguished the light. Slipping out of the scrub pants she was wearing, she crawled onto the bed, biting her lip as she felt the mattress dip under his weight.

"Let's get this over with. He'll be home soon." She tried to sound cool but her heart was already pounding with anticipation.

"The hell he will. We both know where he is tonight."

She didn't comment. Instead, she pulled the fitted tee over her head and tossed it across the room. A shiver zipped up her spine as his bare leg brushed hers, relishing the pleasurable sensation of the coarse hair against her baby smooth skin.

He lay on his back beside her and she straddled his leg, rubbing against the firm muscle of his thigh as her lips found his. Deftly, he unhooked her bra and tossed it in the direction of the footboard. His hands slid upward from her slim waist to her breasts, teasing the sensitive skin with his nails. Shivering, she whimpered into his mouth, tracing his lower lip with her tongue.

Accepting her invitation, he opened his mouth, greeting her tongue with his own. She broke away with a gasp as his thumbs caressed her nipples and she ground her hips against him.

He felt her damp heat through her lacy panties, the color was irrelevant—they were all his favorites, and pulled her closer, suckling her nipples. Her hips began to move in earnest at the added stimulation and he lowered his hands to her hips, encouraging it.

"God, yes," she whimpered. Her hands were splayed against his chest, fingers curling as the pleasure mounted, her short nails pressing into his skin. "Please."

He pulled his mouth from her breasts and halted her movement against him, growling, "No."

She uttered a pitiful sound of protest and tried to wiggle out of his grasp. But his grip was iron; she wasn't going anywhere soon.

"Please. I need…"

"Do you fuck him here?" he demanded, his voice low.

"What?" She sounded honestly distressed by his question.

"Do you fuck him here? Is that what the two of you do in this big bed?"

"That's not—" She broke off, crying out as he bit her nipple, the pain morphing into pleasure that made her uneasy.

"Do you?"

"No!" she relented, breathless with desire. "This is my bed. _Our_ bed."

She could not see the relief on his face. He wanted to feel smug but found that the idea of her fucking him here distressed him more than he had possibly imagined. The tiny whimper that escaped her brought him back to the present and he released her, his hand moving between them. He stroked her clit, varying speed and motion, growing impossibly harder with each sensual sound she uttered.

Gripping his hand, she pinned it to the mattress beside her and shifted. She taunted him, slowly shifting her hips, dragging her wetness the length of his penis to the ridge at the head, stimulating her clit, and reversing, only to traverse the same course again and again. He easily broke free from her grip and laid his hands on her thighs, fingers tightening rhythmically with her movements.

She was close, almost too close and she pulled away. Taking his erection in hand, she slid onto his hardness, taking him in almost completely. She stifled a groan and rose, sinking down onto him fully this time, her hands on his chest for balance.

This was no time for waiting; she was ready for him, her inner walls warm and slick, giving his cock a tantalizing squeeze each time their hips met. Her movements where lazy but firm and he met her with equal force. Fast and hard had its time and place but he preferred a slow burn, watching his lover go out of her mind as he took her to the brink again and again before finally setting her free.

He wished there was a light on; he wanted to see her above him. She was beautiful in passion, how could such a lovely woman in everyday living not be? But he settled for his other senses, heightened as they were, breathing in the scent of their lovemaking and her own unique smell, listening to the erotic sounds she made, allowing his hands to explore her without restriction.

Closing her eyes, she bent forward, kissing him lazily. He reciprocated, nipping her lower lip playfully, pulling a husky chuckle from her throat. Unsatisfied with this position, she leaned back, resting her palm against his knee for balance as she worked her hips.

"Yes," she moaned breathlessly, finding the friction she needed.

"God, you're so fuckin' hot," he growled. He gripped her hips, then her thighs, and back to her hips again. She drove him out of his mind, a feat that no other woman had accomplished thus far.

Spreading her thighs wider, she sat upright again, her movements more forceful and heading toward erratic. She was close to orgasm, and he was in no better shape. She strained to take more of him in, she wanted him deeper, but they were as close as they could possibly be.

He made a minor adjustment and bumped her womb and she cried out. "Oh God, yes! Don't stop," she whispered, her breathing hard and fast.

Never one to deny a lady in the bedroom, he kept up the pace and angle, biting his lip as he listened to her come undone. She was exquisite; her body contracting around his, moaning of ecstasy, her hips moving against his, softer now, as she sought to prolong the high.

He nearly lost it, hearing her, feeling her unravel for him, _because of him_. As she collapsed against him, panting, uttering soft sounds of satiation, he tenderly caressed the sweat-slicked skin of her lower back, hips and firm, sexy backside.

"Oh God, that was so good," she sighed, kissing his jaw.

"Hmm," he answered, non-committal.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"In case you didn't notice, I'm still waiting for my turn."

She smirked and sat up, gazing into his eyes. "I bet you're just _aching_ to come."

"You have no idea."

"Well, I guess I should do something to—" she broke off, squeaking as his thumb brushed her clit, her body arching into his, seeking more.

"Yeah, I guess you should if you want more of this."

Her hips were already moving without her consent, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. This man knew just how to touch her, to make her come alive under his hands. She had never known anyone like him and she had never dreamed he was sitting on such a wonderful talent.

She flexed around him, alternating the tempo, keeping him off-guard and luring him nearer to his own peak. He continued to work the heart of her pleasure, turning her body against her, but she was unable to find it in herself to care because she was climaxing again, bringing him with her this time.

They lay together, chest to chest, her face pressed against his neck, his hands gently caressing her arms, dropping affectionate kisses into her sweaty hair. Lost to their own post-coital bliss, neither noticed the man standing silently in the doorway, illuminated by the lights from the first floor.

Without a sound, he pulled the door to the jamb, turned and walked away.

"You know you can't stay here, right?" she said sleepily.

"Aww, mom! C'mon! I'm tired and I'm already comfortable."

"No. James will be home and you cannot be here."

"Fine." His tone was sullen and she was certain his expression was too.

"What did you think was going to happen? I'd leave James, move in with you and become your sex slave?"

"Well, not exactly in those words, but some variation of them, yeah."

"I'm sorry. I've invested too much into this marriage to let it go now. You had your chance; you should have acted on it."

He didn't speak, just pulled away and began yanking his clothing on in the darkness.

"House," she said gently, switching on a lamp beside the bed, "Don't get pissed off. You knew what this was when I let you take me to bed two years ago."

"Don't you _dare_ get all moral and self-righteous with me! He's fucking every woman he meets, including terminal patients! He doesn't deserve you or your loyalty! Fuck your vows."

"I think we just did. And he doesn't have my loyalty. I'm thinking of our reputations—all of our reputations. Imagine the scandal. Best case scenario, we all lose our jobs. Do you really think it won't follow us? That no one will care?"

He didn't answer because he knew she was right. She always was, no matter how many times they had this same argument. Nor did he resist her when she crossed the bed on her knees and pulled him to her, her lush curves pressed against him.

"Choose me."

"I did. Years ago. But you just never asked and then Wilson stepped up to the plate instead." Her smile was melancholy, despite the affection for him shining in her blue eyes. She caressed his jaw with the backs of her fingers and pulled him in for a sweet kiss. "I love you, Greg."

"Back 'atcha, Partypants. To infinity."

She smiled at their old joke and said huskily, "To infinity, _squared_."

~The End~


	2. My Give A Damn Is Busted

~My Give A Damn Is Busted~

_Princeton, New Jersey_

_2000_

It all started in the springtime. Stacey, unwilling or unable to cope with Greg and his anger at her, left. He shut out his parents. The only people he allowed near him were Cuddy and Wilson.

Initially, her focus had been on her patient. She was concerned how the loss of his support network would affect his mental health and his willingness to stick with his rehab program. But House was House; grouchy, whiny and demanding, even more than ever before. James was a constant, a compassionate soul who always offered to lend an ear when House was especially trying and unpleasant.

What began innocently enough, drinks after work and long chats became late dinners. As House took his first unaided steps, Wilson asked Cuddy out on their first official date. She accepted with a shy smile and a slight blush. For the rest of the day, she was distracted and scattered, not giving House the attention he was used to receiving, so he called her on it.

Despite the happiness in her eyes, she breezily informed him of her impending date with Wilson. House went from pushy to sullen in point two seconds. The mysterious mind of the great and powerful House was reeling. How was it possible, he wondered, that his BFF would do this?

He banished Lisa from his room the only way he knew how—he turned the full force of his rage on her. She left in the middle of his tirade, a grim mask on her lovely face. The nurses who had gathered around a nearby nurses' station, looked up in surprise as she marched past. They could still hear House shouting insults from his room at the rapidly moving Cuddy.

"Woman has nerves of steel," one of the senior nurses commented.

"How can she _stand_ him?" another wondered.

"Unclear," another nurse with a military background stated. "Maybe she feels sorry for him. His girlfriend did walk out on him."

"No way. She's doted since she became his attending."

"She's like that with most of her patients. Dr. Cuddy is a mother hen."

"That doesn't mean she's a bad doctor," the senior nurse said defensively, "Her patients all like her."

"I'm not saying she's a bad doctor, I'm just saying she gets involved in patient care. Really involved."

"I heard they have a past," Military Nurse Barbie said slyly, grinning at her now-captive audience.

"No way. What kind of past?" Senior Nurse inquired.

"They met in college. After his big debacle at Johns Hopkins."

"How do you hear this stuff?"

"There is a reason they call me Ears."

"What else did you hear? Did they date or something?"

"I just know she was an undergrad at Michigan and he was already a superstar. Everyone wanted a minute with the fantastic Greg House. Especially the ladies."

"I was one of his classmates," the older nurse said, quirking an eyebrow, "Believe me, he gave the ladies all the attention they could want and they gave him all the lovin' he could stand."

"Excuse me. Am I paying you to stand around and gossip or to take care of patients?" Cuddy demanded, from behind the small knot of women.

"Sorry," they mumbled.

"I know there is plenty to do around here, so please get started." She turned and took three steps, then faced them once again. "And the way I heard it, House could take a minute and turn it into an hour. Once he had you in his crosshairs, there was no refusing him. He was hypnotic."

The women stared at her. She offered a mysterious smile and walked away, leaving them more confounded than ever about the history between doctor and patient.

~*~

Before leaving for the night, she stopped to check in on her most fractious patient. He was still pouting and the sight of her walking into his room sent his mood plummeting. His arms crossed and he stared out the window.

"You're pouting. You must be feeling better," she commented with a smirk.

"Isn't there somewhere you have to be?"

"I thought I'd check in on you before I leave for the night."

"So tonight's the big night, huh? Dinner, dancing, a little slap and tickle?"

"There is something wrong with you. You know that, right?"

"That's what they say. But you like it or you wouldn't keep coming by here thirteen times a day."

"I don't come by thirteen times a day," she scoffed. "Besides, I am your doctor, it's sort of my _job_ to come by and see you."

"Uh huh, sure. Always an excuse."

"You're absolutely right. I just can't stay away." Cuddy rolled her eyes. "So, unless you need something, I'm leaving."

"I do need something."

"What."

"I need to feel loved. Why don't you hop on my pony and go for a ride?"

"Good night, House."

"Cuddy, wait."

She sighed and looked at him expectantly. "What do you want, House?"

"Why are you going out with him?"

She was startled by his unmasked honesty. It was rare such a thing happened where House was concerned. He always hid behind glib remarks and mind games; he lived to challenge and shock people. It was uncommon for him to display any real emotion.

"What does it matter to you?" she asked quietly.

She studied him carefully, watching for the subtle signs that were often missed. He did not answer her question but the flicker in his eyes was telling. One corner of her mouth turned up and her eyebrow rose.

"_What does it matter, House_?" she pressed.

"You know," he growled. He stared into her eyes, refusing to back down. "Don't pretend you don't."

Biting her lip, she left the room.

~*~

Wilson took her out for dinner and dancing, just as House predicted. He knew his friend well, knew all of the moves he would make. He knew James would kiss her, quite likely put the moves on her, but he also knew Lisa was a level-headed woman. She wouldn't throw herself into a sexual situation with a co-worker, much less a subordinate, without agonizing over it first.

When she checked in with House the following morning, he could see she was tired but absent that I-got-some-after-a-long-dry-spell glow. He decided watching her was better than baiting her, for now. Cuddy was an easy read because House was more observant than the average bear. And because he knew her well.

Initially, she didn't make eye contact with him. She checked his vitals, read his chart, spending far more time than necessary on the task. She could feel his eyes boring into her and she knew her time had run out. Meeting his eyes, she smiled.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

House offered a non-committal shrug.

"Are you in any pain?"

"Every minute of every day, thanks."

She recoiled, her expression contrite. "On a scale of one to ten?"

"I'm fine for now. I'll harass the nurses when I need something."

"You're scheduled for PT today. I talked with Ginger; she said you took your first steps yesterday. That's wonderful news."

"Yes, I'm ecstatic I'll be using a walker for the next few months."

"Better a walker than a prosthesis, wouldn't you say?" she snapped.

He shrugged and resumed watching her. Secretly, it amused and delighted him to keep her off balance, it always had. His plan was working perfectly—soon, she would start spilling, hoping that her confession would put him at ease and reduce the tension between them. Because for all he knew about her, she knew him just as well. He was jealous of her date with Wilson, bitter because James had had the courage to ask where his own had failed him. And that fact was his Achilles heel, a fact he knew she knew.

"You were right," she said lightly, "Dinner and dancing."

"Did you have fun?"

"Yes, I did. I haven't been dancing in a long time."

"How sweet. Did you reward him accordingly?"

"And now we're getting to the real reason for your interest in my private life. What you're really asking is: did I sleep with him?"

"Did you?"

"Yes, my God, I did. We fucked all night long. No one has ever made me scream as loud as he did."

"If the screaming part hadn't tipped me off, the sarcasm did."

"It's none of your business."

"Look, you haven't known Wilson as long as I have. You don't know what he's like when he's in a relationship."

"And I suppose you do, because the two of you have such a close, _intimate_ relationship."

"Like every other person on this planet, all you know about him is what he wants you to see and what you're willing to accept as truth. I'm not saying he's a serial killer or a wife beater, but he's not everything you think he is."

"Well then, I'll definitely take your word for it now." She rolled her eyes and replaced his chart. "I'll be by later today. Try not to piss anyone off."

"Yeah, like that's really gonna happen."

~*~

The more he tried to warn her, the harder she chased after Wilson, allowing him to woo her. She disregarded the red flags that flashed before her—the evenings he was mysteriously unavailable, all the times he didn't answer his phone at night when she called, the casual lies she saw right through. When they were together, he was everything she thought she wanted.

After six months of dating, Wilson popped the question. Tearful and beside herself with joy, she accepted. House heard a nurse gossiping about the news with his physical therapist and pretended not to. When Cuddy stopped by before leaving for the night, he noted the engagement ring he'd heard tell of, was suspiciously absent.

He decided to bide his time; it wasn't impossible that the ring was being sized, maybe she forgot to put it back on after washing her hands or after showing it off to the wives of wealthy donors. James Wilson and Lisa Cuddy were royalty in the medical world in Princeton. A marriage of the personal and professional would only enhance their reputations, children could bring about a dynasty.

But after a week, there was still no ring on her finger. He had decided to inquire about it but there was no need. House watched as she started into his room and paused, her hand on the door, then swiftly pulling it to her. In what she probably believed was an incredibly slick maneuver, she ran her right hand over her left, removing her engagement ring. As she opened the door, she dropped the ring into the pocket of her lab coat.

"So, no one is complaining this morning. Obviously you've found something to occupy your insanity."

"That's it? That's the only reason you came to see me?"

"It's interesting." She smirked at him, using his own game against him.

He glowered at her. "It's not, actually. When were you planning to tell me you're marrying my best friend?"

Her eyes widened slightly, her only outward sign of surprise. "I didn't realize I had to run all life-changing decisions by you first."

"Now that you know, things will run much more smoothly in the future."

"How did you find out? I gave strict instructions to the staff to keep their mouths shut around you."

"You screwed the pooch, Cuddy. I saw the not-so-subtle removal at the door."

"Okay, fine. We're engaged. I'm still not clear on how this affects you or why you're taking such an interest in my life."

"You've dated with him for how long? What makes you think you know him?"

"Is it possible that I got to know him in that time?"

"You don't know him the way I do."

"What makes you such a great judge of character, House? How do you know he hasn't opened himself up to me completely?"

"Because I know you and I know him. You're both so used to attending to the needs of others you let your own suffer. This situation is a ticking bomb. I just hope I'm around to see the detonation."

She didn't say anything further, she simply flounced out of the room. He lowered his eyes and watched her ass twist and bounce, his lips slowly curving into a smile as he enjoyed the show.

~*~

They personally delivered the news to him at his home. He had been discharged weeks ago and hadn't been seen since. Lisa was more than amazed by his dedication to his recovery. Given his behavior while he was in the hospital, she had expected this, had known he would drop off the grid and probably be found dead a week later after the stink annoyed the neighbors.

He was playing his Gibson when they knocked on the door. Initially, he ignored it. But as the knocking grew louder, the list of possible visitors dwindled. As the noise grew in persistence, it shrank to two.

"What?" he yelled.

There was merely another knock in response.

He growled in annoyance and limped over to the door. Ripping it open, he found himself face to face with the two people he least wanted to see.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"We're here to see you," Wilson said pleasantly.

"I'm not interested in your religion or whatever it is you're peddling," House said loudly.

"Just let us in, you jackass," Cuddy snapped.

House stepped aside, pulling his walker with him. They stepped into his apartment and he slammed the door behind them. When he turned, they were making themselves comfortable on his couch. Which wasn't a good sign—they planned to stay for awhile.

"So, what's up? How ya doin'? When are you leaving?" His tone was as cavalier as the smile on his face.

"We're here to give you this," Lisa said, handing him an envelope. "We'd like you to open it before we leave."

"What is it, a subpoena?"

"Yes, because after your infarction, we went to law school," Cuddy retorted, "Just open the damn thing."

"Why are both of you here?"

"Please, just open it," Wilson said, his brown eyes pleading with his best friend.

House glanced at each of them and sighed heavily. He tore open the envelope and glanced over the invitation.

"You came all the way out here to make me read this. You couldn't have called?"

"Yes. How foolish we were to think you might be happy for us." Lisa stood and put out her hand for Wilson to take. "Let's leave misery to itself. I refuse to give it my company."

Wilson looked at his friend and then to his fiancée. With a sigh, he stood and took her hand, allowing himself to be led from the apartment. They went back to her house and made love. He pretended not to notice her tears and she turned her head away, ignoring the fact that he could not look at her. After she had fallen asleep, he slipped into the night.

~end part two~


End file.
